Do Not Go Gentle
by DistantFantasies
Summary: -ON HIATUS-Savannah is new to the area, alone and with no intention to stick around anywhere for long after the passing of her grandmother. That is...until she bumps into a stranger on the street...
1. Chapter 1

_~1~_

 _Do not go gentle…_

I wasn't sure why the words kept echoing in my head that night. I'd never even liked that poem. Often misquoted, I had more of a thing for William Blake and his brighter outlook on life. I shoved my hands as deep into the pockets of my coat and kept my head down to help the hood offset the rain. It rained a lot in Portland, but I'm not originally from here. I'd grown up in the deep Southern United States where rain was more of a summer afternoon thing, not an everyday but you never actually drown thing. It probably wasn't every day, but I'd been here over two weeks and it had every single day.

Moving had not been easy, but necessary I told myself. I needed a change of scenery, a breath of fresh air after my grandmother had died. She was my only living family, had raised me since I was knee high to a grasshopper as she liked to say. I had stayed in Alabama to take care of her. After she died, it became too hard to stay where she had been. There were too many memories, both good and bad. The last six months had been brutal.

 _She forgot me_.

Not on purpose, I told myself firmly. She could not have helped that part. She would not have forgotten me if she could help it, and I took comfort in knowing that her last moments I had seen that she _knew_ me again. She had had clarity. Just like I had prayed for.

I'm not overly religious, being raised in a very cliché Southern Baptist church (white steeple and all), had crushed a lot of ideas I had about God. He was very hateful in their portrayal. Everyone was going to hell if that was the kind of God we had to follow. I blame a lot of that on the generation of the church. They had seen a lot of change in their day, and used God to beat anyone who didn't agree with them over the head.

I stopped going the day Granny got too sick to go to church anymore.

Just a few more blocks and I would be home, I thought, shaking myself out of deeper and more depressing topics. I could feel water in my pockets and let my fingers splash in them.

Portland was temporary, which was why I was staying in a rent by the month hotel. I intended to keep moving until I found somewhere that felt right, or finally ran out of money. Maybe I'd go back to Alabama. Maybe not. Granny's empty house, which now belonged to me, was not the most appealing option. I knew the suffering that had taken place there and it absolutely put a black mark on every happy memory I had there.

I turned the corner and bumped into someone, the force of their body almost knocking me to the ground if it hadn't been for a hand catching my elbow.

"Oof, sorry." I said earnestly, my drawl more pronounced than I had intended it to be. I looked up to see a young man, maybe twenty on a good day (I bet he got carded a lot if he were any older than twenty) dressed from head to toe in black. He had dark hair and the darkest brown eyes I'd ever seen in my life. He held my elbow for a long moment, looking at me as though a light switch had turned on before letting me go.

"No problem." He said in a cool tone that was worse than the rain. He didn't have on a coat and I thought that he must be cold, but he brushed by me before I could utter another word and kept walking around the corner that I had just come from.

I've never been one to be struck stupid, but that was exactly what happened. I frowned, mostly at myself as I replayed the scenario. If it weren't for the street light on this corner, I probably wouldn't have seen him at all. Shaking my head quickly, I kept going, only looking over my shoulder once to check the street behind me. I had not thought about how alone I was out here until just then.

In Alabama, we rarely worried about walking after dark. In my hometown everyone was familiar with each other. There were virtually no strangers at home.

It did not take me long after that to reach the rent-a-hotel. It was a little rundown and maybe a little creepy, but it was all I could afford until I found a real job. Or maybe I didn't want to find a real job, so I stayed somewhere I could afford outright.

I just needed time to figure out what the hell I was going to do next.

I climbed the stairs up to the second floor, holding on tight to the wet railing, my sneakers making god awful squealing-squelching noises. Out of the rain and under the awning of the second story, I pulled down my hood. My fingers were cold as I reached into my back pocket for the room key. It was an actual key of all things, not one of those little key cards meant for a wallet.

It slid into the lock with a little bit of persuasion and as I opened the door, I had a distinct feeling of being watched. Frowning, I lifted my head and let my eyes wander over the empty breezeway on either side of me.

Shaking off the feeling, I opened my door and pulled the key free with a quick snatch. I opened the door and took a breath, met only with the smell of must and probably some kind of deadly mold. I flicked on the light as I shut the door, giving the room a suspicious glance before locking up the door.

I felt a little better with the chain in place, adding an extra layer of protection to the door.

I peeled off the oversized jacket I wore and brought it to the bathroom, throwing it over the shower curtain bar to dry out a little. Under the canvas material I wore jeans and an old band t-shirt.

I looked up into the bathroom mirror as I began to kick off my shoes, using my feet to do the work since I was too lazy to bend over and untie them.

I'm honestly nothing to look at, which was why I didn't have or keep serious relationships. I kind of felt bad because all Granny wanted was to see me happily married before she died. I brushed my hand through the frizzy tangle of brown hair, a pair of equally brown eyes staring back at me.

Maybe there were some features I could see were "pretty" but I wasn't advertising. It had been just me and Granny for a long time. Now it was just me.

I turned back towards the small room, complete with a tiny eat in kitchen, flopping down on the queen sized mattress. It creaked loudly under my weight and I sighed as I threw an arm over my eyes.

I was thinking about that stranger again. What in the world had he seen to look at me like that?

I frowned, knowing that I'd probably never know.

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! I know what you have to be thinking, oh no…a cliché' Stefan finding love story. Nope, folks. This is NOT a love story. :P So go ahead and toss that notion right now. I have no intention of putting these two together.

If you want to find out what this story really is…well…stick around for the ride. ;)

 **DISCLAIMER:** I do not in any way claim to be Patricia Briggs. All of the characters mentioned from Mercyverse belong strictly to her. _Mine to me, yours to you_.


	2. Chapter 2

_~2~_

The red numbers on the alarm clock read 3:52 with the little dot indicating that the time was in a.m. I peered at the number for a long moment in the dark, my mouth dry enough to have been a towel. It was not unusual for me to wake up at random times. When Granny had been sick, her care had been around the clock and literally any minute I could have been needed.

This was different.

I rolled from my side to my stomach, listening to the bed groan under my shifting weight. I was stiff and sore even though I couldn't recall why, and a thought hit me like a gallon of ice water.

 _It was dark_.

I tensed but moved slowly, my eyes adjusted to the darkness as I took in the hotel room. I had not turned off the light, and when I did turn off the light I always left the bathroom light on. It was black as pitch, bare outlines and shadows visible thanks to the moonlight the filtered through the threadbare curtains.

I moved my hand slowly under my pillow, reaching for the knife I kept there for safety. I found its rope bound handle easily, and felt a little better. It was one of those big survival knives with the jagged edges. Maybe too big to be of much use, but we were about to find out. At least I had a weapon.

Still on my belly, I considered my next move. It was likely that if someone were here that they had already left. It was quiet and I couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary.

So I sat up, slowly, as though nothing were wrong. I kept the knife pressed against my thigh as I swung my feet off the bed. My bed protested the action, and it certainly wasn't helping me keep any element of surprise. On my feet, I surveyed the darkness again.

"If someone is in here," I drawled slowly. "I suggest you see yourself out."

Silence met me.

I gave an involuntary clench of my teeth as I turned towards my door, my eyes landing on the chain lock which was still very much in place. I stalked over to check the bottom lock too, and felt a little foolish. I flicked the light switch up and down a few times, finding the light was out or the power one.

Now I really felt foolish. Still, I couldn't help the sigh of relief as I went back to the bed and sank down on it, feeling my fears go running. I pulled the sheath for the knife out from under the pillow and put the blade back where it belonged. I clipped the button and pushed it away before running my hand through my hair.

I was like a scared rabbit out here. I'd never been this alone before, always had someone to call, and always had someone looking out for me too.

 _Not alone_.

The voice sliced through my conscience, invading me. I jumped ten feet and spun around, looking for whoever had spoken. Nothing. Not even a flutter of movement, though I was standing with my heart racing a million miles an hour.

What the hell kind of shit was this? I thought angrily, waiting for the voice to answer me again. It had been a man's voice, smooth and quiet. Familiar, but I couldn't place it just then. I didn't have a cell phone to call anyone, though to be honest…I wasn't sure who I could call.

I'd up and left town without a word after Granny's funeral. It had been sixteen weeks ago, and I didn't have what anyone could consider close friends. I had my family, but that was gone now. Family now was a bunch of distant relatives, most I'd never heard of and many who had shown up at the funeral to see if Granny's will had left them anything. It hadn't. So none of them had stuck around beyond that.

I clenched my jaw again as I waited, on edge, for something to happen. I scooted three feet back from the edge of the bed as the thought of something reaching out from under it to grab my ankles sent a chill down my spine.

I wasn't ready for the arm that wrapped around my torso to pull me off my feet as the other hand clamped down on my mouth. I didn't even have time to process that movement before I was spun around, looking into an oddly familiar pair of walnut brown colored eyes, the fancy polished kind. That voice came over me again, this time in a movement of lips.

"Sleep." He said.

The darkness claimed me.

 _Do not go gentle._

I don't know how long I was out, but it did not seem like a long time. It's kind of like when you take an unexpected nap and one minute you're awake then the next you're waking up again. You don't know how much time has passed. It could be three minutes or three hours for all you know.

I had a hell of a headache though.

There was something soft under me, and my back told me it was probably a bed. I lifted my head, finding the simple action to be a struggle as I opened my eyes. It was dark in this room, but in the shadows I could see that this was not my hotel room. My stomach clenched. I'd been…kidnapped?

"Something like that, I suppose." A quiet voice answered, causing me to jump as I turned to look at the man standing ominously in the corner. He moved his hand, flicking on the light which made me squint at the brightness.

"Something like what?" I asked, the question out of my mouth before I could consider it.

He smiled though the expression did not touch his eyes. It took me a moment, but I recognized him.

"Kidnapped, if that's the way you want to think about it." He said, without his eyes leaving me.

"Wait, you're that guy from the street." I said, frowning. "The one I ran into."

He nodded at me, and proceeded to move across the room. It sent me into action as I rolled to the side, away from him. I dropped to the floor on my feet, feeling light headed. My head was spinning with questions. Where was I? How had he gotten into my double locked hotel room? Why had he _taken_ me?

"All in due time." He said, regarding me with indifference.

"What?" I said again, utterly confused.

"You have questions." He said, standing on the bed opposite from me. "Which I will answer in due time, but first…I must eat again."

I must have given him a look because the smile returned.

"You're crazy." I told him seriously, to which he gave me a short laugh.

"It's something much worse than that, I assure you."

The words gave me a chill, all of my hair standing on end. He seemed to notice my fear, which wasn't hard…it was practically screaming at him. Which I wasn't. Why wasn't I screaming?

 _Come to me_.

His voice in my head. It had been _his_ voice in my head. I resisted the pull of…of whatever the hell he was doing, but it wrapped around me like a warm blanket and tugged me forward. I dug my heels into the carpet, looking at him with all the desperation of a wild animal. He looked…interested.

 _Come_.

He said again, in my head. I couldn't resist the second calling, coming around the edge of the bed to stand in front of him.

"Unusual." He murmured, mostly to himself I could tell. He reached up to brush my hair away from shoulder, so it would hang down my back. "I'm going to bite you, Savannah." He said, catching me totally off guard. Bite? What the hell was this some kind of kinky twilight bullshit?

He laughed out loud then, startling me again.

"Stefan?" A voice from outside the door came, a quiet knock. The man I'd run into, presumably Stefan, looked at me for a moment longer before answering.

"Come in, Warren, though…you may not like what you see." He answered, his tone of voice never wavering. The door opened and a much large man entered the room. He had on a cowboy hat, another Southener.

"Help." I said, though I doubted he would help me. My voice was tenured with fear, even though it didn't rise above normal volume despite my efforts. I was _too_ calm.

The cowboy's eyes flickered to me briefly, and I thought for a moment that I saw something in him that might bring him to my rescue. His mouth pressed into a firm line as he looked away, as did my last chance for help.

"That makes four. Is it enough?" He asked, not addressing me at all.

"Yes, for now." Stefan replied.

 **A/N:** Poor Warren. I imagine he doesn't like being in this kind of a situation…

Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you're enjoying?

 **DISCLAIMER:** I do not in any way claim to be Patricia Briggs. All of the characters mentioned from Mercyverse belong strictly to her. _Mine to me, yours to you_.


	3. Chapter 3

_~3~_

The old Stefan would have never taken someone like Savannah Brandon.

She was not his usual type of prey, too young and pretty and noticeable. The old Stefan had looked for people who would not be missed. Homeless people or runaways. People that needed his help in some way or another, whether they realized it or not.

Mercy would not like this girl he had chosen.

He flexed his knuckles on the steering wheel of the rental car, closing his eyes briefly. Long enough to feel the pain slice through him again. It haunted him, more than anything else in his life. No, not life. Existence.

He still felt the ripping pain of his people as they suffered. Marsilia had ripped them from him, made it feel as if they were _dying_ to punish him for crimes she had pretended to blame him for. Most of his people _had_ perished, and Stefan could not find it in him to forgive his Mistress of her crimes against him. She had played him, all for very good reasons he was sure, but still her cruelty had harmed him more than she intended.

And…there was Mercy to consider.

She was bound to him by blood, by choice. It would not give Marsilia the wolf pack, but Mercy was more valuable than any of the wolves. Stefan would not give her Mercy. Even if it meant that he was estranged from the Seethe for the rest of his…existence.

Stefan turned his attention back to the roadway, Warren, one of Adam's wolves pretending to sleep in the passenger seat with his hat over his face. It was the irregular breathing and his posture that made Stefan sure he was awake.

Savannah was asleep across the backseat, wrapped in a blanket with a travel pillow tucked under her head. He'd brought her things, sparse as they were, from the hotel room she'd been in. She would appreciate the thought later.

Perhaps she was more alone than she looked. Her journal had given him some indication of her situation, dead grandmother and all. And for some reason, her thoughts were a bit like Mercy's. He could hear particularly strong ones without much effort on his part. He was no mind reader…that was not his talent.

"Having second thoughts?" Warren's voice rumbled from under the hat.

"No." He answered curtly, never taking his eyes off the road. Portland was just far enough that his little hunting trip would not bring any unwanted attention to the Seethe. Funny, that he would protect her after all that she had done to him.

Warren gave a little hrmph under his breath. He'd asked him the question only one other time, when he'd brought Liam back on the first trip. Stefan collected his people slowly…until tonight. Liam was in his fifties, living under an underpass with a grocery cart and a dog. It was a mercy taking him. He would be cared for, and give care in return. And Stefan would permit him the dog, giving Ford clear instruction that the eight pound Chihuahua was _not_ prey.

Warren knew how necessary all of this was, but that didn't mean he had to condone it. It probably would have surprised Stefan if he had.

Adam, of all people, had been the one to come to him and practically command a hunting trip. The old Stefan would have smiled about the idea, but it (and Mercy's anger at seeing his people) had awakened him again.

He was not as he was, but he could not watch his people continue to suffer for his lack of protection.

He had spread them too thin, and was just starting to realize the consequences. He'd come close to losing Rachel between himself and Ford.

He was determined _not_ to lose anyone else. In honor of Naomi, Josephine and all the others taken from him.

 **A/N:** Short chapter, but a necessary one I think. I don't think I'll play too much in Stefan's POV of things…because he's rather depressing. I LOVE YOU STEFFY, YOU WILL BE OKAY, OKAY?

Get ready for some heat in the next chapter or so. Savvy's been playing nice so far, but she's not as docile as she seems. Southern girls just have something about them.

Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you're enjoying?

Thanks for the follows so far! 3 I see you! ;)

 **DISCLAIMER:** I do not in any way claim to be Patricia Briggs. All of the characters mentioned from Mercyverse belong strictly to her. _Mine to me, yours to you_.


End file.
